


Make it on my own.

by LovelyOne



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 21:19:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2707139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyOne/pseuds/LovelyOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The real world looks so very unappealing in this light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make it on my own.

The Audi on the curb ahead posed either a terrible threat or none at all. The engine was idling, wipers gently swishing away the curtain of rain that might obscure the driver's vision. If he was looking out. Impossible to tell from this distance. 

Time would tell though. Every footstep drew him closer to the bus stop on his side and soon the position of the stop would make the suspicious vehicle and it's suspicious inhabitant's intentions clear. 

His weary yet ever present paranoia would not allow him to really believe the presence of such a car was just a coincidence. It warred crossly with the absolute certainty that he had burnt every single possible bridge that would explain it. He had made sure there was no one who might feel obliged (Sam) to visit him. Besides, she drove one of those little eco cars.

There were a number of houses along this street. It could simply be waiting for one of the occupants. 

The prison had a car park. No need for the upper echelons of society, newly released, to walk the walk of shame. They could leap into a car with blacked out windows as soon as their incarceration was at an end. Be whisked away from the fucking shame they SHOULD feel and back into the glamorous world of tax evasion and and... what was he thinking about again?

Oh right. That fucking car. 

Lurking over there. The driver WAS looking at him, the cunt. Well he could look. Couldn't get him to cross the road just by staring like a cock faced moron. 

The urge to stick his fingers up made them itch furiously. 

He was waiting for the bus that would come along any second and whisk him the fuck away. He was intent on pretending nothing was bothering him, not the car, not the wanker driving the car. Certainly not the rain or the fact that walking into the prison wearing a tailored suit and no coat because it was mid June was a little short sighted of him since walking out the same way in mid December was an entirely different experience. 

He checked the twenty in his wallet was still there and hadn't vanished between the prison doors and the plastic coated bus shelter that offered zero in terms of actual shelter from anything. The precious moments peering into the wallets dark depths and subsequent blinking of rain from his eyes meant he missed the sight of the bus approaching and so failed to signal his expectancy of it's stopping to retrieve him. 

The sound of the rain and the roaring of the engine meant the bus driver didn't hear the outraged screaming of expletive riddled vitriol directed at his disappearing rear. Probably didn't hear. Certainly didn't halt anyway.

That fucking cockwad in the Audi was laughing, now, wasn't he. He must be. He looked the sort to enjoy the misery of others. Hook nosed twat. 

Right. Last fucking straw. Enough of this misery shite. Bring on the fucking raging bull. Not tired. Not tired and hopeless. Fucking furious! Much better. Fits him like a glove. 

Ten steps from one side of the road to the other. Driver side door in sight. Readying himself to rip the man a new arsehole, blood rushing in his head so loud it drowned out all other sound in the world. He grabbed the handle. The back window slid down with a whir.

"Malcolm, come in out of the cold."

He froze, hand still on handle.

Three deep breaths wheezed out of his chest as the rage dissipated. The emotion that attempted to replace the familiar fury was unwelcome. Gratitude so strong it clogged his throat. Relief that flooded warmly from his chest to his face. Control, such as it was, slipped from his grasp briefly and his eyes burned.

"Julius?" He barely pushed the sound past his frozen lips. Rain trickled down his collar in a thin line.

The driver's door suddenly opened, forcing Malcolm back a few steps. Mr Hook-nose climbed carefully out and opened the door to the backseat, stepping smartly to the side and looking expectantly at him. He wasn't laughing. 

Malcolm crept past him and silently entered the vehicle as Julius shuffled across to allow him room. The clicking of the door shut out the cold. 

Julius held out a blanket and the control slipped entirely. 

He pushed himself bodily into the offered warmth and if Julius was surprised to have an armful of soaking wet Tucker he didn't let on.


End file.
